Elastic Heart
by Wigglytuff17
Summary: Resident bad boy Paul imprints on shy guy Darren Bentley who is determined to stay in the closet. That causes trouble for Paul, unleashing the possessive side of imprinting. "I will not rest until you're mine." BoyxBoy, PaulXOC
1. Elastic Heart

A/N: Hey there, thanks for taking an interest in my new story. I will try to update this one as frequently as I can. In order to better understand the flow of the story, here's some quick background information: It has been fifteen years since _Breaking Dawn_ and the Cullens have moved away, so there's no need for the pack in La Push to phase and protect the reservation. Most of them have moved on with their lives, leaving Paul to be the only one without an imprint as Rachel does not exist in this universe. The chapter titles are taken from songs that I feel match the tone/mood of the chapter. Kind of like a story playlist. Enjoy!

* * *

"Elastic Heart" – Sia

"_I've got thick skin and an elastic heart / But your blade it might be too sharp / I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard / Then I might snap and I move fast / You won't see me fall apart / 'Cause I've got an elastic heart_"

* * *

Wow…just wow. I fought to keep my mouth shut as I glanced out the car window at our new home. The area, known as La Push, seemed to be a biophile's paradise as evergreen trees dominated the area, almost no infrastructure or buildings around. The ones that were around were small and kind of run-down, not at all like the tall proud skyscrapers of downtown San Antonio, Texas where we relocated here from. Which brought me to another difference that made me scowl: It's too cold here! I shivered in the backseat, too proud to admit that I should have heeded my new stepdad, Jonathan's, advice that I should have worn pants instead of my khaki cargo shorts.

I grimaced at the driver's seat where Jonathan sat, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding my mom's. It was his fault why I had to leave my glamorous life in Texas for the cabin feverish La Push. My phone buzzed in my pocket…for probably the fifth time in the last couple of minutes.

"You sure are popular, Darren," my mom mused, not taking her eyes off the scenery that she had previously declared as beautiful.

"Mm-hm," I grunted, annoyed at her for some odd reason that I couldn't quite pinpoint. When I woke up this morning, as soon as she greeted me, I could feel my eyes roll. I'll just chalk it up to my seventeen-year-old hormones.

My phone vibrated again.

At least there's one good reason to move away from San Antonio, but did it have to be here? Why couldn't we have gone to San Francisco or New York? Or even back to Germany? Before my dad died last year in Afghanistan, he, my mom, my brother Andrew, and I would travel the world due to the Army moving us every couple of years. We'd lived in Chicago, Germany, Hawaii, South Korea, and then San Antonio; the latter being my favorite. Then we got the call that Dad gotten hurt in a roadside blast. After a week of worrying and waiting, we received the news that he had succumbed to his injuries. My mom wasn't too devastated; everybody knew she'd met Jonathan four days after Dad deployed. Andrew enlisted in the Army as soon as he graduated high school last year, leaving me alone with Mom and Jonathan. They got married last month, and Jonathan decided it'd be a great idea to pack us up and ship us over to his hometown in the middle of my junior year. Apparently, his dad was going to meet us there and we were going to help take care of him.

"…and we'd all go cliff-diving and then hang out at the local diner. It's not that bad of a town, you guys will love it," Jonathan went on, trying to get us to warm up to the idea of living here. My mom was already sold, but I was having a hard time buying it.

"Darren, maybe you'll meet a nice girl here," my mom said. "You've always been a little shy, I'm hoping you'll break out of your shell."

"Sure," I mumbled. Yes, I'll admit, I'm kind of shy and tend to keep to myself. But that's not why I haven't hooked up with a girl yet.

The car jerked to an abrupt stop. I was flung forward, but stopped by the seatbelt which dug into my shoulder. The tires gave a little screech, and Jonathan slammed his fist down onto the horn. The horn's blare was muffled out by the engine rumblings of the motorcycle that had cut us off, the driver wearing a black leather jacket that accentuated his bulk, his back looking broad and muscular as he flipped us the bird. He didn't wear a helmet, the wind blowing his short black hair up into tiny spikes.

"What a jackass," Jonathan spat, "looks like that Lahote kid's still amounting to shit."

The motorcyclist eventually disappeared down the road, the rumbling of his bike gone along with him. My eyes stayed trained on his alleged location, eager to see his return for some odd reason. An escape? Maybe that's what he represents to my subconscious since he's so different than me. I'm Darren Bentley: seventeen-year-old, straight A student who aspires to become an English teacher. I've never done anything that could be classified as "Badass" in my life: a total square. My self-control stemmed from being born to two fourteen-year-olds. I love my mom and dad, but I want to make sure that I focus on my studies so as not to become like them. I don't like to use profanity, I say "please" and "thank you", and I read the Terms and Conditions pages on Apps. The most rebel thing I've ever done was download a song online, which gave my laptop a virus so I never did it again. Then there was the motorcyclist. He didn't play by anyone else's rules but his own. He didn't wear a helmet; he gave Jonathan, a known authoritarian, the finger; and even cut off a minivan. Plus, a little more obvious: he rode a motorcycle which automatically boosted his points. I'm too embarrassed to admit that the notion of riding a motorcycle terrifies me, so I'll most likely never experience that action.

My mom rested her hand on Jonsthan's arm, "Calm down," she whispered. "Everyone's fine."

The car lurched forward again, and within a couple more minutes, we drove up to a gated community. It was one of those fancy looking neighborhoods surrounded by a gray stone wall, with black iron gates keeping out non-residents. Apparently, this community was finished just two months ago, and we managed to snag a nice two-story near the back of the community which contained twenty-five identical two-story houses, each with a two car garage and a hot tub on the wooden deck in the backyard. Each house had its own Wi-Fi built in and a state-of-the-art security system designed by German engineers. I found it ironic that there would be such a nice community in the middle of a bumpkin town. Jonathan pulled up and punched the code into the keypad, _94928_. The black iron gate that had _Mountain Shadows _in cursive metal creaked open, allowing us access to our new neighborhood. As soon as we drove in, the gates slammed shut behind us, making me feel like my life was now sealed here in La Push.

We parked near the edge of the community, up to a light blue two-story, with a red brick chimney poking out of the left side. "Welcome home, guys," Jonathan smiled. He pulled up into the driveway, turning off the van.

Thank God, I can finally get out of that minivan and stretch my legs. Eagerly, I hoped out, immediately being assaulted with the bone-chilling air. Even though it was nearing Spring, the major temperature difference made me want to put several layers of clothes on and bundle up.

"Darren, start carrying the suitcases inside, 'kay?" Jonathan said, going to my mom's side to help her out.

"Yeah," I said, heading over to the truck.

"You mean 'Yes, Sir'," Jonathan corrected.

"Yes, Sir." I popped open the trunk and began to drag our suitcases inside the house, "accidentally" letting Jonathan's fall on the pavement from the van. I followed behind the newlyweds into our new house, greeted with the scent of lemon polish and apple candles. The inside was pretty nice, even I must admit. The mahogany hardwood floors were so polished that they reflected my surprised face back up at me. The walls were bleach white without a single blemish. Near the front door was a silver panel embedded into the wall. On it were bright blue buttons which helped me to deduce that it was the alarm code for the house.

"Well, what do you guys think?" Jonathan asked. He owned his own online business as a financial advisor to some big businesses, so it didn't surprise me that he was able to afford a house this grand. What shocked me was that there was this nice of a house, or community, in seen-it nowhere. The moving van had dropped off our belongings yesterday, as there were cardboard boxes aligning the halls and stacked in the rooms.

"What's the code for the alarm?" I asked, not wanting to be trapped outside in the wilderness.

"Let's just say your curfew is 11:00, 'kay?" Jonathan said, taking my mom's hand. "How about we get a pizza for dinner?"

"I think I saw a Little Caesar's back a couple miles," my mom said. "I'll be right back, you boys start unpacking the kitchen." She hurried out, leaving me to think that she only wanted to leave so fast so that we'd do most of the unpacking. Clever girl.

For about a half hour, Jonathan and I spent the time unpacking boxes in silence. Once one was empty, we'd break it down and lay it on the flattened pile. I was down three, he had five under his belt. Whatever, it wasn't like it was contest. Soon though, thoughts of the motorcyclist popped back into my head. He just seemed to ooze masculinity, being the epitome of what a tough guy is. God only knows why I seemed to be so fascinated with him.

"So…," I mumbled, shuffling my way through a box that had a bunch of utensils thrown on the top, "what's the deal with that Lahote kid you almost crashed into? Don't like him much?"

Jonathan grimaced. "He was a member of some weird gang back in high school, called themselves the protectors of La Push – frickin' weirdos. Anyways, he was an asshole back then, and he's an asshole now."

"Did he bully you?" I asked, although I felt I'd already received that answer from the malice marinating his words. Perhaps Jonathan was the butt of some hurtful pranks at Lahote's hands.

"Not just me, but everybody," Jonathan frowned. He finished with the box he had been going through, tossing the empty cardboard over to our pile. "Paul, that's his name, was a nobody then, and he's a nobody now. After graduation, he got a part-time job at some shop and never went far. Seriously, the guy's thirty-four, never had a real job, never left La Push, and never had a family."

I didn't have the heart to call out Jonathan on the fact that, although he did leave La Push initially, he came back. "Well," I said, unwrapping a ceramic coffee mug with a polar bear on it, "maybe he considers his gang his family."

"Cult's more like it."

Oh. I could feel the allure of the motorcyclist slipping away from me. Sure he had seemed cool beforehand, yet now he sounds like a, for a lack of a kinder word, loser.

"Just stay away from that guy, and don't join his cult if he asks."

Like I'd join a cult. I rolled my eyes and sighed. Wanting to talk about something else, I asked, "Anyone else you know who lives in town?"

Jonathan chuckled. "We're not in San Antonio anymore. I know everybody in town and vice versa."

"Oh," I mumbled. I've never lived in a small town before, so the thought of everyone knowing my life made me oddly anxious. "Anyone else I should avoid?" I'd meant that as half-joke, half-serious inquiry. I wanted to make my living arrangements as comfortable as possible.

Jonathan laughed to himself, not thinking that I was being a smart mouth. "No, it's pretty safe here. Eh, I do know that a Martha Griswold sells meth, and a Marcus Channing is a fruit."

"A fruit?" I asked, placing the last of the mugs in a nearby cabinet. I was a little confused by his choice of words.

"A faggot," Jonathan clarified. "Stay away from it. He's going to burn and we don't want him to take you down with him."

"Burn?"

"In Hell."

I never picked Jonathan out for being closed-minded. "I'm fairly sure that God loves all His children, no matter what," I said.

"Look, just stay away from that freak," Jonathan spat. "I don't want faggots in this house."

My heart sped up and my palms began to get clammy. I took a pause from unpacking dishes so as not to accidentally drop one. "You won't have to worry about that," I said.

"Good."

Jonathan and I unpacked boxes in awkward silence for a while, me too afraid to look at him lest he see my anxiety. Eventually, my mom came back with the pizza, setting it on the cold stovetop.

"Just use paper towels, I don't feel like doing dishes," she said, taking her hair out of its bun with a relaxed sigh. She then perked up, "Oh, Sweetie, a Sam Uley wanted me to say, 'Welcome back.' He seemed pretty nice."

Jonathan groaned. "Freak acts like he owns the damn town." He turned to me, "Stay away from him too, he's the leader of the La Push Cult."

"Cult?" my mom asked, pulling a slice out of the box to hand to Jonathan. "Like with Kool-Aide?"

"More like muscles and tattoos," he answered. "It's just a little gang of guys who all look alike, and expects the town to answer to them and live by their rules. Whatever, though, as long as you stay away from them, you'll all be safe."

After stomaching a slice or two of the grease-soaked bread some referred to as pizza, I trudged up the stairs to my new room. It was the last door on the left at the end of the dark, upstairs hallway. The room shared the same dark mahogany floors with the rest of the home – I'll have to put a nice floor rug down (maybe dark purple). On the popcorn ceiling was a solo fluorescent bulb, no fan or fancy covering. The movers had already moved my desk, mattress, and other belongings (still in boxes) into the small room. All the clutter made it feel stuffy, so I walked over to the window to open it a crack for some fresh air. The window of my bedroom overlooked the edge of the gated community. The wall was in sight, about five feet from the house, and beyond that was the dense coniferous forest that swallowed the whole town.

My phone buzzed again.

Great, I thought, this is the last thing I need. Finally caving in, I looked at the phone screen, beginning to read all missed fourteen tests from Vincent, my ex-boyfriend.

_Hey_

There was no way I'd answer. We were no longer an item, and I felt that responding to his texts would just give him a false hope, despite me living halfway across the country.

_Answer!_

We had met in Spanish class. I was having trouble memorizing the preterit form of _ser_, and Vincent came over to my desk to help me out. The next day he surprised me with flash cards he had made containing all seventy verbs that we were supposed to have memorized for the following week's exam. To a nerd like me, it was a very thoughtful and charming gift.

_I kno u moved but we can make this work_

The following week, he had asked me out to a movie, to which I'd said yes. It was so much fun! We went to a Korean restaurant and then saw the new cheesy giant monster, Godzilla-ripoff. At the end of the night, when I began to say "Goodnight", Vincent pulled me into his arms and smacked his lips to mine.

_Hello?!_

I accepted his proposal to be boyfriends that very night. Inside, I was jumping with excitement at finally having a boyfriend.

_Baby please talk 2 me_

Things went great, we went out on dates, hung out at his house after school, and spent all of our free time together. I was having the time of my life.

_Darren, I swear 2 God if u dont anser_

Then things spiraled downward, really fast. He grew possessive, not letting me out of his sight and trying to fight off my friends. He tried hiding my phone so that he'd be the only one I could talk to.

_Fuckin bitch! Anser me!_

Then he hit me one day. I'd tried to convince him to allow me to attend the journalism club's Christmas party where we would be looking back on the year's articles and reminisce. Nerdy, innocent stuff. However, Vincent had it in his head that I had only wanted to go because I supposedly liked the Chief Editor, who was a girl. I'd told him he was crazy, and in a flash, he socked me right in the jaw. Now it clicks whenever I chew food.

_Fuckin anser me!_

Perhaps the worst part was that I had to keep it all a secret. I'm not out of the closet, nor do I have any plans to be in the near future. I see the way gays are bullied to the point of suicide in high school; that won't happen to me. Vincent had understood and agreed to keep our relationship under the radar in school, much to my shock.

_Ull regret this_

And there was no way I'd ever tell my parents. My stepdad Jonathan was the figure head of the anti-homosexuality movement. He hated gays and everyone who identified with them. My mom's his puppet and would not hesitate to kick me out of the house if he asked her to if he found out.

_Ur stil mine, u kno that_

Therefore, the day that I found out we were moving, I broke up with Vincent via text message. I know it's the cowardly way out, but it was the only way that I could do it without having my safety and well-being compromised.

_I stil love u_

After that, he began to text and call me nonstop. He followed me around school and even around the city. One night, I had even seen his car parked outside my house. I didn't know what to do. I felt so helpless. I wanted, no, needed help, yet I didn't want people to know my deepest, darkest secret: that I'm gay.

_Im stil going 2 hav u_

When we left San Antonio, I made a promise to myself, a promise that would ensure that I'd never have to go through what Vincent had put me through again.

_Anser Baby, please_

I'm not going to come out nor am I going to date anyone in La Push.

Period.

_Ok, ur sleeping. Ill c u soon xoxo_


	2. Odd One

"Odd One" – Sick Puppies

"_Odd one, I wish I was you / You're never concerned with acceptance / We are all desperately seeking out / And fitting in with anyone / Who will accept us / But not you, Odd One_"

* * *

The alarm on my phone began to beep, making me groan in pain and annoyance at the thought of having to go to school, a new school for that matter. A new school in the middle of the year to add to that. Huh, I should probably stop complaining. I was now going to be a junior at La Push High School, the only high school in town. I heard from Jonathan, who had graduated from there back in the Stone Age, that the student body is so small that all two-hundred students can fit on one side of the gymnasium's bleachers and still be comfortable.

I dragged myself out of bed, which was just a mattress on the floor with a comforter and some pillows since I was too lazy to do more unpacking last night. I walked over to the bathroom, thankful that my mom and Jonathan got their own attached to their room. At the apartment we had in Downtown San Antonio, all three of us had to share one bathroom. Talk about torture. I took a quick shower and dressed up in pants and a thick wool sweater that I had never gotten to wear in humid Texas. Here, it should keep me nice and warm though. At least some other good besides escaping my psycho ex-boyfriend came out of this move. When I walked downstairs, I saw that my mom was already up, trying to get the Keurig machine to work.

"Stupid piece of crap," she hissed at the machine. She slammed her fingers down on random buttons, desperate for her cup of coffee in the morning.

"Mom," I said, "plug it in."

She looked behind the machine, frowning to see that in her drowsy stupor, she had forgotten to plug the Keurig in. "I hate my life," she groaned. Ditto.

Back home in San Antonio, I would just walk through Downtown to get to the high school. However, here in La Push, I have to go near the dense forest, which is filled with all sorts of animals that would love to get a bite out of me. I'm fairly sure all I taste of is Cheez-Itz and Dr. Pepper since that's all I ever eat during my downtime. Anyways, I digress, I do not want to walk to school in La Push because I'm willing to bet my whole savings account (that's another depressing story on its own) that the nearby forest contains bears, wolves, and whatever else there is that has sharp teeth and devastating claws.

"Are you sure you can't drive me?" I asked Mom one more time.

She huffed and placed a mug under the spout for her coffee on the Keurig. "I've told you several times before Darren, I have a very important job interview that I have to leave for in twenty minutes. Maybe once Howie gets here, he can let you use his car."

Howie was Jonathan's dad, and the reason why we had to move here to La Push. He was getting too old to live on his own with arthritis in both knees, a cataract in his left eye, and his hearing starting to go so much that one had to scream in order for him to hear; it was pretty obvious that he needed help. He's supposed to move in later today after he's done settling things at the retirement home he currently lives in. Then he'll take the downstairs guest room so that he won't have to take the stairs.

"Can't," Jonathan's voice sounded from the living room where the faint sound of the news could also be heard, "he sold the car to help pay for medical bills. Anyways, Darren, I told you, it's not that far. Walk. End of discussion."

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled, irritated that he had been eavesdropping. I continued my morning routine of doing my hygiene, packing my book bag with the essential items, and grabbing my phone off the charger. I had made sure to call the school office yesterday to see what I had to do on my first day, and the administrative assistant said to report to the attendance office to pick up my schedule. That seemed easy enough.

I said my goodbyes to my mom and Jonathan and started on my way through the community. It was chilly outside, a gray overcast creating a gloomy mood about the area. There was a sidewalk that passed in front of my house and let me through a little patch of grass over to the stone barrier from the rest of La Push. There was an iron gate in the wall, wide enough for only one person, with a keypad on the outside. As soon as I exited Mountain Shadows, the gate slammed close with a clang and there was a click of a lock that could be heard. I guess the people in the gated community wanted to keep both wilderness and most of the La Push population away from them.

I pulled my iPod out of my pocket and shuffled my songs, a Motown song playing first. I walked along the outside of the gated community sidewalk, which went alongside a semi-busy road. Jonathan had told me that the high school was only about three-quarters of a mile away from the house, so it'd take me about fifteen minutes at my slow pace to make it there.

The beats of The Temptations began to get drowned in the growl of a loud engine. So far, I've seen a lot of Jeeps and Chevys on the road, but none of them would create a rumble like that. I glanced over my shoulder, a little nervous that it was the growling of a large wolf or something. To my relief, it wasn't a monster dog or anything, it was only a motorcycle.

Oh! It was the Paul Lahote guy that Jonathan hated!

He was driving up towards me as I was walking with traffic. This time, I managed to get a better look at the bad man of La Push. He still wasn't wearing a helmet, his short black hair getting ruffled by the wind. The permanent scowl on his face only seemed to accentuate his manliness, that along with the dark sunglasses that were only needed to keep debris from his eyes, not for the sun. He wore the same black leather jacket from yesterday, only this time I could see that it was unzipped to reveal a tight white shirt that stretched across his powerful chest muscles. All that was missing was a cigarette to complete his total rebellion look that he seemed to be going for.

Paul revved the engine and glanced my way, as most motorists do when surveying their surroundings. However, unlike most motorists, I saw his hard expression go from its apathetic stance, to shock. His jaw dropped and his sunglasses slid down his nose, letting me see his brown eyes from far away which were wide like his mouth. Then something unexpected happened: his mouth pulled up into a little smile, all the while his gaze was fixed on me.

Then he passed me by, continuing on his way.

That was weird, I thought to myself. All I was trying to do was walk to school, minding my own business. I didn't expect to earn a smile from the resident bad boy…or bad man seeing as how he was in his thirties now. Oh well, there was no point in dwelling on it. He came and went, that's all.

I continued on my way to school, finally able to see the small two-story building off in the distance. It did seem pretty small, much smaller than my old high school. Back at my old school, I tended to blend into the crowd. Sure, people knew me as the nerdy guy who passed all his classes with flying colors, yet I was by no means popular. People knew me, but as more of an acquaintance than a friend. Originally, I had planned on carrying on that social strategy here with me to La Push, yet once I saw how small the school is, it might be a little hard to blend into the walls.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Oh great, I wonder who that could be…yeah right. Rolling my eyes, I pulled out my phone and glanced at the text from Vincent: _Hav a nice day, I luv u! xoxox_

It'd be a nice day if he got hit by a bus, I thought, then immediately felt guilty about being so morbid.

The music on my iPod began to fade out again as it was muffled by a loud engine once more. I looked up from my phone only to see Paul on his motorcycle again, this time going the opposite way on the same street. Maybe he had left something at home? As he drove by me, his gaze stayed trained on me just like before.

I could feel my body tense and my pace quicken. I was only a block away from the school, so as soon as I get inside, I'll be safe from Paul's awkward stare. This just had to be coincidental. There's no way a grown man would turn around in light morning traffic just to get a look at me. The roads weren't too busy though, but I'm betting that's just because of the small population in the town though.

Soon Paul was off, gone in the other direction.

I began to scan my surroundings just in case Paul came back around again, looking for a building that I could run into and hide. There was a little convenience store that I had passed by a block ago. I had planned earlier to walk there during my lunch to buy some chips and a soda, but now it seemed more like a sanctuary that I could run to in order to escape the weird motorist, lest he should attack. The stories that Jonathan had told me last night about Paul belonging to a cult resonated in my head, only intensifying my anxiety.

I crossed the last intersection and was finally on the same block as the high school. I made it! And I didn't get murdered in some cult sacrificial ritual! That right there makes this a good day. I made my way up to the entrance, cutting through the parking lot and the grass field.

The rumbling of a motorcycle engine grew louder, sounding like it was right behind me, pulling into the school parking lot.

No way!

Too afraid to look behind me, I hustled forward and rushed into the school. I'm willing to bet that Paul's not the only person to own a motorcycle in La Push, yet the odds of him being the one in the parking lot, following me, is pretty big. I do not want to risk it.

Once inside the school, I saw several of the students glance my way and whisper to the person right beside them, most likely talking about the new kid being here. With this being such a small town, I'm sure that a new student is big news. Which is weird to me, since I've never been the center of attention before, nor do I like it. I'm kind of shy, so sue me.

Now to get my schedule. "Excuse me," I asked a nearby student who had just walked in, "could you tell me where the attendance office is?"

She paused in her steps and looked at me. "Sure," she said. "You're the new guy, right?"

I nodded. "I don't really know where anything is yet." I gave a nervous chuckle at the end of my corny statement, feeling my face turn a little red due to my shyness.

"No worries, I'm actually part of the student committee, so it's my job to show new students around."

"Oh, cool."

"Name's Claire," she said, holding out her hand.

I shook it. "Darren," I replied.

"So the office is down this way," she said, leading the way down the hall that was mildly crowded with students. The school seemed a little too large for such a small student body. "So you're going to talk to Emily, she's new here, but eager to work so she'll help you out if you have any questions about your schedule."

"Alright," I responded, mainly to show that I was listening.

Claire led me to an office that was at the other entrance of the school. "Right in there on the left," she said. "And don't stare." She turned on her heels and sauntered off to her first class.

Don't stare? What is she talking about?

I went through the door and was greeted with the smell of baked goods. The spices and sugar filled my nose with a pleasant aroma that made my mouth water. Was this an office or a kitchen?

"Hello, there," came a voice, "you must be Darren Bentley."

"Yes," I said as I turned to see a young woman sitting behind a large desk. She was a petite woman with her long black hair in a braid that was lying over her shoulder. Then I understood what Claire had mentioned about not staring. The woman had long scars marring the side of her face, dragging the side of her mouth into a scowl.

"I'm Emily Uley, the new admin," she said. She motioned her hand toward a basket with a kitchen towel over it. "Muffin? I'm not used to not having to bake since I got this job. So I just bring them in for the faculty and students."

Wow, she's friendly. "Uh, thanks," I mumbled, grabbing the first one I saw. Blueberry. I like muffins and sweets. "So I was told to come in here to get my schedule."

"That's right," Mrs. Uley said, opening up the filing drawer that was in her desk, shuffling through some papers. "So, Darren, you're a junior?"

"Yes, ma'am," I answered.

Mrs. Uley chuckled. "Oh Sweetie, call me Emily. Ma'am is too formal for high school. Anyways, you should be in the same class as my niece, Claire. She's a senior, but not too good at English, so she'll be in your class. Maybe you could help her out?"

I nodded. "I'll see what I can do." I had considered getting a job once I got here; hopefully save up enough money for a car. I don't like walking to school, especially if there's a weird motorcyclist who follows me. Then I perked up. "Mrs. Uley-"

"Emily."

"Oh, sorry. Emily, do you know a Paul Lahote?" I asked, curious to see if there was anything that I needed to fear walking to and from school.

She laughed. "Know him? He's like my brother, comes over to my house every Sunday for dinner. He and a few other guys used to be over every day, but now that most have left for college, only he, Quil, and Seth still come around. Oh, I think I went off on a tangent. What's up, is Paul giving you a hard time?"

I shuffled my feet. I couldn't tell this woman that I thought her almost-brother was a little psycho. "Uhh, he and my stepdad knew each other." I technically wasn't lying.

"Oh yeah? Who's your stepdad?"

"Jonathan Patrov."

Emily grimaced and then looked embarrassed. "Sorry about the face. He and I didn't get along in high school."

Does anybody in this town get along with Jonathan? Well, I guess my mom makes one. "Well, I guess I should be getting to class," I mumbled.

"Here's your schedule," Emily said, handing me a slip of paper.

"Thanks," I said. "And thanks again for the muffin."

"No problem," she smiled. "And let me know if Paul gives you any trouble, I'll put him in line." She laughed to herself after that.

I gave a faint smile and exited the office. I looked over my schedule real quick:

1). English

2). AP US History

3). Physics (gross)

4). Pre-Calculus

5). Spanish III

6). Theater

7). P.E.

Theater? I've never taken theater before in my life, nor do I have any desire to. I'm too shy to be doing public speaking! I turned back into the office. "Hey, sorry to bother you again, but there's a problem with my schedule," I said.

Emily was on her cell phone, talking in a hushed voice to someone. "…yes, he's alright. " She glanced my way. "Have to go, he's here. And congratulations again." I could've sworn that it sounded like she was talking about me to someone. Oh well, there are more important matters at hand.

I handed her my schedule. "I'm signed up for theater," I said.

"Okay?"

Alright, I need to spell it out. "I'm, kind of…shy," I mumbled. "Is there another class available?"

Emily frowned. "Sorry, Darren. But the district requires an art, and theater is the only one available this semester. It's out of my hands," she said. "But you'll do well, I'm sure of it. You know, that was the only class Paul got an A in."

I didn't think of Paul as the theater kid type. He seemed more woodshop than performance arts.

I left the office and went to my first class. Sure enough, Claire was in there. She waved at me, signaling for me to sit next to her. I did, and pulled a notebook out of my backpack, ready to jot down whatever notes the teacher would write on the whiteboard.

"So a couple of us go across the street to the burger joint for lunch," Claire said, "you should come. It's pretty good."

Well that beats my chips and soda alone idea. "Sure," I said. "Thanks."

The first half of the day went by fairly quickly. Claire was only in my English class, and I wasn't social enough to reach out to other people in any of my other morning classes. After Pre-Cal, lunch started and I met up with Claire and her friend out in front of the school, near the faculty parking lot. The two of them were talking about some guy when I walked up.

"Hey Darren," Claire waved, "this is Lola." She pointed at the other girl with her. Claire, by far, was the prettiest, with her clear skin and slender frame. If I was straight, I'm sure I would have had a crush on her.

"What's happening?" Lola asked, giving me a head bob.

"Nothing much, just the regular school stuff," I said.

"How are you liking La Push?" she asked, the three of us beginning our walk over to the burger joint.

"It's alright," I said. "Kind of different from Texas, but it's still cool."

"You don't have to lie, this place sucks," she laughed. "If it weren't for Seth, I would apply to colleges far, far away from here."

"There she goes again, talking about Seth," Claire mocked. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text, Lola giving her a knowing look. "Ever since the two of them got together two years ago, they've been inseparable."

"Like you're the one to talk, with you and Quil," Lola teased.

"Do they go here at La Push?" I asked, trying to get involved more in the conversation.

Claire shook her head. "They already graduated."

"That's right, we date older men," Lola laughed.

I laughed along with them. I could see myself hanging out with these two for high school. Well at least until they graduate at the end of the year.

"So, Darren," Claire pressed, giving me a little nudge with her elbow, "you got a boyfriend?"

Thoughts of Vincent entered my head, and I could feel the blood drain from my face. How could they have guessed that I was gay already? Was it the way I walked? Did I move my hips too much? Was my voice too high and feminine? I decided to play it off cool. "No, I'm actually straight, and single," I stammered. "But I don't believe in dating in high school." I added that last part as insurance in case they ever tried to set me up with a girl.

Claire cocked her eyebrow. "Oh, uh, okay." She quickly pulled out her phone and shot whoever she was talking to another text.

Lola bit her lip and immediately changed the subject. "So, Seth is taking me out to dinner and a movie. He said it'd be nice to do a double date, Claire?"

"I'm down," she answered. She turned to me. "Darren?"

Like I want to be a fifth wheel on a double date. "I don't know…"

"It'll be fun," Claire added, sensing my hesitation.

"Besides," said Lola, "Seth was going to bring a friend, a guy by the way so we're _not_ trying to set you up or anything, so you won't be a third wheel or anything."

"Okay," I reluctantly agreed. I suppose it would be nice to peek out of my shell. What's the worst that could happen?

We made it to the burger joint and walked inside, seeing many other students already lined up at the counter, placing their orders. I began to scan the menu that was up on the wall over the cash register. Mushrooms sound good today. How much money did I bring?

"Oh, there's Seth friend now," Lola said, bringing me out of my search. "Paul! Over here!"

What?! I jerked my head over to where Lola was signaling. Sure enough, there was Paul Lahote, just entering the burger joint. He looked our way, his eyes glued on me again. He sauntered over, my heartbeat speeding up.

He was freaky tall and built. He had almost a foot on me, and at 5'10'', I considered myself tall. His muscles made him look like an amateur bodybuilder, like he could pick me up and rip me in half if he wanted to…which I pray isn't his motive for staring at me. As soon as he was in front of us, he took off his sunglasses and the side of his mouth twitched up into a smirk.

"'Sup?" he asked me. "Name's Paul." He held out his hand.

"Darren," I almost whispered, intimidated to the max. I took his hand, surprised at how warm it was. He completely engulfed my hand with his own beefy one, but he didn't shake it. Instead, he bowed down and planted a small peck on my knuckles, prickling me with his light stubble.

"It's very nice to finally meet you," he looked up, that smirk still on his face.


	3. Gun

"Gun" – Chvrches

"_I will be a gun / And it's you I'll come for / Hide, Hide / Have never felt so easy / I will be a gun / And it's you I'll come for / And I'm gonna see that you won't go far_"

* * *

I couldn't believe it! Paul, a man who was in his thirties, just leaned down and kissed my hand, which belongs to another male! A male who is technically underage, seeing as how I don't turn eighteen for several more months. My mouth hung open in surprise, not being able to formulate words – or sound for that matter – to come up with a response to Paul's odd action to meeting me. Jonathan was right: there is something off about this man. Then there's another point that enters my mind: Why did this man want to hang out with high schoolers?

Paul was still holding onto my hand, that goofy smirk still plastered onto his face. I gave a gentle tug, and he let go, although his smile disappeared.

"This is Paul Lahote, he's a friend of the gang, one of the original members," Claire said.

That made me perk up. She basically just confirmed that Paul was in a gang. Maybe there was a cult, and Claire was trying to get me to join. I'm willing to bet that she was texting Paul on the way here, telling him my location so as to jump me into the gang. I should be a detective…

We made our way to the front of the line. Claire and Lola ordered their lunch, paid, and then went to find a table. They managed to snag a free one near the back of the diner, up against the window over-looking the main road that passed between us and the high school.

"Hi, how may I help you?" the man at the cash register asked me.

"Um," I paused, taking one last look at the menu to finalize my decision, "I'll have a mushroom burger with a small fry, please. And with a Dr. Pepper."

The man punched the buttons on the register. "Okay, that'll be $7.50," he said.

I reached into my pocket for my wallet, when a large hand engulfed my shoulder, making me stop. I looked behind me, only to see Paul step forward.

"I got it," he grunted, dark eyes running over my face, waiting for my response.

"Y-you don't have to do that," I stuttered, unsure as to why Paul wanted to buy me lunch.

He held up his hand, telling me to shut it. "Go take a seat," he said, "I got it." He added that last part with a little inflection that indicated to me that the matter was no longer up for discussion.

"Uh, thanks?" I turned around, shrugging to myself. Hey, I just got a free lunch, so I say that all things considered, I came out on top…I guess. I made my way over to the table where Claire and Lola sat, both of them trying (and failing) to look like they were looking at anything besides Paul and me.

Claire, looking at her phone – with the screen dark – looked up and smiled. "So, Darren, what do you think of Paul?" she asked.

"Why?" I cocked my eyebrow, taking a seat in the booth opposite the table from them. They shared a seat, leaving me with the other one to myself. That was nice, it allowed me to sit next to the window, which was my favorite spot as I liked to watch the world go by as I ate.

"Just wonderin'," she said, taking a sip of her soda. "He's cool and will be hangin' with us a lot, so we wanted to make sure you two got along."

Sure…

"When I first met Paul, I must admit, that I was a little afraid of him," Lola piped in in between bites of her cheeseburger. "Seth introduced me to him at the bonfire, and it looked like he had a permanent scowl carved onto his face. But, later I realized that it's just a bad boy façade. He's really more like a teddy bear."

Cool story, Bro. "Uh-huh," I said. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Oh God, please not now. I can't handle one crazy guy, let alone two.

"Here you go," I heard Paul say.

I looked over to see him placing a tray onto the table. There had to be close to fifteen burgers and four orders of fries on it. My jaw dropped and I looked up at the man in awe. "Is all that for you?" I asked in disbelief.

Paul's cheeks grew a little red. "Yeah, I'm a growing man," he chuckled.

"Where do you put it all?" I asked, genuinely curious. Paul didn't have a paunch on his stomach, but instead had rock-hard abs that were proudly displayed through his thin shirt. In fact, all of his muscles were on display underneath that thin piece of cloth. I could have sworn that I saw Paul flex his pecs as I raked his body over with my eyes.

"Fast metabolism," he said, taking a seat right next to me. He scooted so close that I moved away, my side pressing into the window. Yet, Paul kept inching his body nearer to mine, until our shoulders touched. I suppose that he is pretty broad, so I'll have to let it slide. Paul reached through the massive pile of food, pulling out my burger and fries, setting them in front of me along with my soda.

"Thanks," I said again, picking up a fry. It was pretty good; I can see why a lot of students come here for lunch. As I began chewing, that clicking sound from my jaw, which I have Vincent to thank for, sounded out. Claire and Lola didn't seem to notice, but I could see Paul's lips purse and his fists clench slightly.

He didn't say anything, but instead unwrapped burger after burger, devouring each one in a matter of five bites. Wow. It was actually pretty impressive, making me wonder if this cult member had won a few eating contests in the past. There's no doubt about it. I decided to search Paul Lahote online once I get home later that day; that way, I'd be able to see if he had won a contest, or had an arrest record, which I'm willing to bet he does. Normally, I don't like to judge people based on their appearance, but I mean, come on. Paul has that "I'll-Kill-You" look plastered all over his face when he's wearing that scowl that tightens up his full lips and wrinkles his chiseled jaw. However, when he wears that smirk of his that only lifts up the left side of his face, it reminds me of someone being a little too cocky. Something tells me that this man is used to getting what he wants due to his looks. And lastly, he's the cliché leather jacket wearing, motorcycle riding bad boy who only causes trouble in the small town. Just by taking one look at Paul, and with a little help from Jonathan's stories (although he does have the tendency to embellish), I can tell that Paul is someone I need to avoid. Even if he did buy me lunch.

"Would you like my autograph?" Paul asked once he noticed that I'd been staring. He was focused on his burger, peeking at me through his peripheral.

I quickly turned my head forward. "Sorry," I mumbled, my face getting warm.

I saw Claire and Lola chuckle to themselves, and then they stood up. "We have to go," Claire said, "we'll leave you two get to know each other."

"Huh?" I all but cried out. They were ditching me, with Paul?

"See ya," Paul said, not taking his focus off his burger and me.

The backstabbing girls walked out, giggling to themselves and taking obvious glances at Paul and me.

Like what any normal person would have done, I'd expected Paul to move over across the table so that we could each a booth seat to ourselves. Unfortunately, he stayed glued to my side, almost scooting a little closer even.

"So…," I wondered, uncomfortable to the max, "what do you do for a job?"

Paul took a break from his burger and faced me. A small smirk began to form on his face and his posture straightened out. "I used to do security for La Push, you could say," he said. "I managed to keep the entire town safe, so you know now that I'm a protector."

"Okay…?"

"And now that the town is a lot safer than in the past, I've been kind of job hopping. Right now I'm in construction, helping to build the new hospital on the edge of the Reservation. So that tells you that I can also provide, just saying."

"Provide for what?" I wondered.

"Anyone," he said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his soda. "Anyone who'll let me take care of them."

"And is that what you're looking for in life?" I asked, taking a bite of my burger. I'm a slow-eater, just starting my one burger while Paul was just finishing his ninth.

Paul jerked back a little, not expecting me to ask him that. He looked down at me, his brown eyes locking onto my face. "Why don't you tell me what it is you're looking for," he pressed, his voice low and curious.

"I believe that I asked first," I smiled.

"I've been spending a majority of my life looking for my other half," Paul answered. How sentimental and oddly romantic. I really wasn't expecting that answer to come from Paul. He appeared to keep looking at me every now and then from the side of his eye, almost as if checking to see I was really there.

"Well I hope you find her," I said, turning my attention back to my food. This was getting to be a weird lunch topic, especially with someone whom I've just met.

"Him," Paul said.

"Huh?" I asked.

"Find him," Paul clarified. Oh, I didn't know that Paul was gay. Honestly, I would not have pinned him to be. Once again, I hate to judge to by appearance, but he seemed to be just a bit too masculine for me to guess. I really hope that thought doesn't offend anyone.

"Oh, okay. That's cool," I said. "Nothing wrong with that."

"And now it's your turn." Paul still had his gaze trained on my face. "Tell me what you're looking for in life."

I shrugged. "I'm only seventeen," I said. "I have lots of time to figure that out." Although, I know exactly what I'd like to have in life. The same thing that Paul wants: to find my soulmate. Too bad for me that it's nearly impossible for me to begin my search.

My phone buzzed.

"I guess that's true," Paul said. "So, maybe you can help me out with my search. There's this bonfire in on Friday that important members of the tribe attend. Want to go?"

I knew that La Push was a reservation, although I wasn't Native American and neither was my mom. However, because Jonathan counted as head of household and claimed us, we were allowed to live on it. However, because I'm not a member of the tribe, I don't think that I'll be permitted to the bonfire. And that brings me to another point: how does Paul count as an important member of the tribe?

"I don't think I can go," I said.

The familiar scowl made a comeback. "No, you have to," Paul said.

My phone buzzed again. I rolled my eyes. "I'm not a tribal member," I said. Sure it would be nice to break out of my shell, but I don't want to break any rules and get kicked off the reservation. I suppose some may classify me as a goody-two shoes thanks to my rule-abiding attitude.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Darren, you'd be going as my guest, so therefore, you're allowed to attend," he huffed. "In fact, you have to go. That's that."

"I have to go?" I asked, surprised that I was getting bossed around by this total stranger.

My phone buzzed again, ugh.

"Yes," Paul smirked. That cocky smile made me frown. That man actually thinks that he can control me! "I'll swing by your house at seven and then we'll go on that triple dinner date thing and then go to the bonfire. Understand?"

"I can make my own decisions-"

"Wear something warm."

"And what do you mean by date?"

Paul smiled even wider, showing off his large teeth to me. "Oh Darren, I can read you like a book," he laughed to himself.

What is he talking about? My phone buzzed again.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Paul asked, getting a little annoyed.

I shook my head. "What do mean that you can read me?" I wondered. This isn't usually how first meetings go.

"You see, _Mate_," he said, setting his last bits of burger down on the tray, "I'm very adept at reading people, and I know exactly who you are. You, Darren, are the kind of person who wants love, but is afraid of it at the same time. And I'm here to set that inner person free, to let him see how great love can be, and you're going to let me."

My mouth hung low. I dropped my burger in shock, its contents splattering all over the linoleum table.

"So," Paul continued, "I'm going to say this right here, right now so that you understand my intentions." Paul leaned closer to me, his mouth perfectly lined up with my ear.

His hot breath sent shivers down my spine, and I could even feel myself get a little hard despite my tension. This hulk of a man completely dwarfed me, and did, as he had said, read me like a book. I do want love, more than anything in the world. But thanks to Vincent, it also terrifies me.

"I won't rest until you're mine," Paul whispered. Then he closed the distance and pressed a quick peck on my cheek, the stickiness from his soda lingering on his lips, leaving a caramel-colored mark on my face that did absolutely nothing to cover up my blush.

I was speechless. My phone buzzed again, making Paul let out a low grumble of annoyance that sounded similar to…a growl? Like a dog almost.

He reached his hand into my pocket, taking a look at my phone. "Five texts from Vincent," he read and then narrowed his eyes at me. "Who's he?"

My heart sped up and I could feel my mouth get desert dry. I stood up and snatched my phone from Paul's grasp. "I hafta go!" I rushed, my face getting flushed. I had to get out of here, before Paul or Vincent did something to out me to La Push and ruin my life. It was only the second day too!

Paul looked…hurt? That seemed weird from a man who was so sure of himself just a couple seconds ago. I can't even believe that he had the nerve to reach into my own pocket and look at my phone before asking. I mean, who does that?

I all but crawled over him to get out of the booth, my knee accidentally brushing up against his member. He was hard and pretty hung from what I could tell.

"What's wrong?" Paul asked, standing up after I made it onto my feet on the other side of him.

I couldn't think up an excuse that would be able to totally avoid having to answer more questions. Therefore, I went with the first thing that popped into my head. "I'm not gay," I muttered, turning on my heels and dashing out of the diner and away from that psycho.

Once outside, I scurried across the street, ignoring the screeching of tires and the honking of horns as I ran in front of oncoming vehicles. I made it safely to the side that the high school was on untouched though. Without looking back, I made my way inside the school, feeling safer there than anywhere in this whole town. Curious, I looked at my phone that was still trapped in my clutches from when I had swiped it back from Paul. On it was a message from none other than Vincent: _I miss u baby! Xoxo_

I internally gagged. Of course Paul would read that text, thus ruining my appearance as a straight guy here in La Push. Wow, even halfway across the country, Vincent managed to ruin my life. That has to be some sort of record-breaking feat or something.

I went to my locker to grab my books for next class, groaning at the thought of the events that had just transpired. Still, though, my cheek tingled where Paul had kissed me, keeping the act fresh in my mind.


	4. Control

"Control" – BoA

"You don't know me / I'm not who you think I am / You don't own me / Your wish is not my command / You think you're in control"

* * *

The rest of the day, I spent my time avoiding Claire and Lola like the plague. Knowing them, although I only have for a few hours, they would only want to ask me questions about how my solo time with Paul went. There was no way that I would be able to tell them that he kissed my cheek without sort of having to come out of the closet. Male on male action was strictly prohibited if I wanted to keep my secret locked away in the dark.

I knew that Claire was a senior, so odds are that Lola is a senior as well. Therefore, in the halls was the only place I'd have the chance of running into them. Plus, they didn't know where I lived, which was another plus. I have the sinking feeling that Claire had been texting Paul on our way to lunch, trying to set me up so that I'd be sucked into the cult. Therefore, I had to keep my house's location a secret as well unless I wanted that psycho to come knocking on my door. No thank you.

My head was still spinning from the previous events that happened at lunch. First, Paul shows up after he had given me the creeps while I'd been walking to school. Then, he sits next to me, our bodies smack next to each other. Third, he tells me that he intends on making me his, whatever that means. And lastly, and certainly the part that makes me tense the most: he kissed me. Although it wasn't an intimate kiss, just one on the cheek. That's all, but still. It was a kiss nonetheless. That man was going to cause my sexuality to come into view here in La Push. In a tiny town like this, it's safe to assume that news, especially gossip, travels around fast. Hence, it'd only be a matter of minutes before word got to Jonathan and he kicks me out of the house. And all of that because of a cocky man named Paul, who just now became my enemy.

As soon as I get home, I need to do some research on Paul Lahote, that way I'll know exactly what I'm up against. Know your enemy; everybody knows that advice, so it has to work.

The rest of the school day dragged on so slowly. Almost every teacher asked me to stand up at the front of the class and introduce myself, and since it's a small school, I pretty much repeated my mantra to the same faces over and over: "Hi, I'm Darren Bentley from Texas. I like learning." And just imagine that with a big, fake smile and terminally cheery attitude. It made some students laugh. On the bright side, there was no sign of Claire or Lola in any of my classes. When the bell rang after P.E., my last class of the day, I was all too eager to run out of the school and scurry on home.

Then a terrible thought crept into my head: if Paul had followed me to school, what would stop him from following me home?

I froze in my steps in the middle of the hall. I needed to waste time here at school that way he'd think that he missed me and then go on his merry way so that I could walk home in solace later. It was the perfect idea! I made my way throughout the halls until I finally found the library, which had its hours posted on the door. It was open for one hour after classes let out for the day. It was perfect!

Dashing inside, I made my way over to where the computers were lined up near the back. Why put off my research on Paul, while I can just do it now while avoiding him? That's hitting two birds with one stone I'd say. I took a seat at the computer against the wall, way off on the side, furthest away from the window. After logging on, I clicked on the Internet icon and went straight to Google.

I typed _Paul Lahote_, putting them in quotations. Only one page of results popped up with three links. The first was his Facebook page, the second an old MySpace profile. I wasn't too big on social media. If I wasn't social in person, then why would I want to be online? The third link sparked my interest and almost made me jump out of my seat.

_Woman, 49, found dead on hiking trail_, it read.

I knew it! Paul was psycho, and he wasn't just in a cult, but he was a murderer too! I knew that there had to be something wrong with him. I had to warn Claire and Lola before he killed them too. Maybe that's why he wanted to take me out to a bonfire. He'd lead me on the trail to get there, only to turn around and strangle me to death! Ooh, I knew it!

I clicked on the link and began to read the article, curious to see how Paul killed the woman.

_La Push police followed an anonymous leading to the discovery of Marissa Lahote's body, age 49._

_ "We received a call around 4 am, telling us the whereabouts of Ms. Lahote," Chief Swan of the Forks Police Department shared. "The call came from a disposable cell."_

_ The coroner has ruled out homicide, saying that the gashes in Lahote's neck are more consistent with that of an animal, and not of a blade. _

_ Lahote leaves behind only son Paul, 16, who will be taken in under the custody of family friend Sam Uley…_

I stopped reading the article. Okay, so I can admit when I'm wrong, and I do suppose that I was kind of wrong about Paul being a murderer. He's still weird and kind of psycho, but I can rule out being a murderer. The article did mention a Sam Uley, maybe the same Sam Uley who Mom said she had ran into while out getting pizza? The Sam Uley who Jonathan said was the leader of the cult? My mind began to race again, jumping to wild conclusions: Paul must have been brainwashed into the cult by Sam after he was taken in by him! Ooh, this town has a dark side, and I'm positive that I just unearthed it.

Once my detective work was finished, I got a jump start on my physics homework, wanting to burst into tears as soon as I took one look at the worksheet that was due tomorrow. I got so wrapped up into wanting to shoot myself thanks to the confusing metric system that I jumped back when the librarian tapped my shoulder.

She struggled to stifle her laugh at scaring me. "Son, the library's closed for the day," she chuckled, holding her hand up to her mouth to hide her smile.

"Oh," I mumbled sheepishly, "okay." I packed up my stuff into my backpack and made my way out of the school. Once outside, I surveyed my surroundings. There were only a few cars left in the parking lot, all of them in faculty spots. There were no students to be seen, except for some that were wearing their track uniforms, jogging on the sidewalk in the opposite direction that I needed to walk in. The sun was still trapped behind a thick layer of clouds and it was still rather chilly outside with no sign of rain though. Best of all: there was no sign of Paul. My plan worked!

Pulling out my iPod, I began my walk home with an odd skip in my walk. I was in a chipper mood, not having to put up with any of that weirdo's attitude or strange delusions that I would go on a date with him. Perhaps he knew deep down that if he had asked, like a sane person, I would have declined. Hence, he went all authoritative on me. I suppose some people may like that sort of stuff, having a man take charge, but I'm capable of thinking for myself. There did exist a little part of me that pitied him for what had happened to his mom. I wonder if there's a connection between that and his general creepiness? It's possible, I mean, she kind of wasn't there to show him how to treat a lady…not that I'm a lady or anything. What I meant was, he doesn't know how to treat a significant other…not that I'm his significant other either.

I made my way to the gated community and to my house without any sign from Paul, which was rather nice. As soon as I walked inside, I saw my mom talking with some older man whom I didn't recognize.

"Darren," she smiled as soon as she saw me.

I pulled my earbuds off. "Yes?"

She gestured to the older man who appeared to be in his seventies. He wore a faded baseball hat and khaki overalls over a waffle-knit shirt. "This is Howie, Jonathan's father," she said.

"Hey there," he said, holding out a wrinkled hand for me to shake.

"Nice to meet you," I said, taking his hand.

"What?" he asked, holding his other hand up to his ear.

"He's almost deaf," my mom said, "you kinda have to shout."

"Nice to meet you!" I shouted.

Howie smiled and nodded. "Likewise," he said.

Jonathan came into the entryway, carrying a suitcase that I deduced belonged to Howie. "Watch this," he told us in a hushed voice.

My mom and I turned to him, my mom eager to see whatever trick the guy had up his sleeve. The whole time I itched to ask him more questions about Paul. However, Howie's moving in would have to take precedence over the conversation for now.

"Hey Dad," Jonathan whispered at a volume anyone with half a brain would know that Howie couldn't hear, "you're disgusting and I'll punch you in your sleep."

Howie didn't make any indication that he heard, continuing to look around the house in admiration.

My face scrunched up in disgust while my mom gave a fake laugh that she had usually reserved for when I read her jokes from an elementary school joke book.

"Oh Sweetie," she cooed, although I could tell that she had wanted to add "shut up" to end of her statement.

"Nice house you got here," Howie whistled. "This community wasn't here back in my day. I 'member that it used to be nothing but wetland. Poor animals." He shook his head a little bit in disappointment.

"They moved somewhere else, Dad," Jonathan said, "let me take you to your room." The two of them walked down the hall to where the downstairs bedroom was near the back of the house. It was right across from the laundry room and at the end of the hall was the back door that led to the porch where our cold hot tub sat. None of us knew anything about pool care, so we haven't used it yet.

Then it hit me: Howie might know something about Paul or the La Push cult. I have no idea what my obsession with finding out more about Paul was. I wanted to avoid him like he was a leper, yet at the same time I was fascinated by him and the offhanded way he carried himself.

I had a feeling that Howie would be busy with unpacking and that Jonathan would be by his side the whole time. I didn't want Jonathan jumping to any conclusions about my questions about Paul; therefore, I deduced that it would be best if I asked Howie while he was alone. It would at least be a couple hours until then.

"Darren, could I get you to do me a favor?" my mom asked.

I turned to her, "What?" Already I was dreading what she wanted me to do. Last time she asked me to do her a favor, I had to go to the store and buy tampons. It wouldn't have been too bad if I hadn't bought her the light flow ones. That day I got to learn that some women bleed more than others during their period and that my mom was a bleeder. I still cringe at that knowledge.

"I need you to go down to the store…"

No, no, no!

"…and pick up some cucumbers so that I can make Howie some cucumber salad," she said. "Jonathan said that he usually just puts cucumbers, tomatoes, and Italian dressing together and calls it a salad. I don't get it, but the man likes it."

Oh thank God!

My mom handed me a twenty and her car keys. "And hurry," she said. "You know how old people like to go to bed at like four in the damn afternoon."

"Okay," I said, bouncing out the door. I had just gotten my license the month before, and like anybody who just accomplished that feat, I was eager to drive anywhere – even to the grocery store. My mom drove an old minivan that was kind of too big for just three people, I thought. However, now that Howie makes four, I suppose it could come in handy. At least I could get an entire row all to myself if I sat in the very back.

I jumped in the driver's seat and adjusted the seat and mirrors, turning the radio station to one that played something other than club and dance music. As I drove out of the community, I gradually gained a feel for how the van handled. I really wanted to find a job here as soon as possible, that way, I could save up some money and buy my own car. Then I could drive wherever and whenever I wanted. And that way, Paul wouldn't be able to follow me on my way to school.

The rumbling of a motorcycling engine sounded from behind me.

No way!

I looked in my rearview mirror, wanting to shriek in agony as I saw Paul, two cars behind me, on his motorcycle. There was no way he could have known that I'd be driving this van unless he saw me get into it. And he wouldn't have been able to see me get into the van unless he got inside the community. And he wouldn't have been able to get inside the community unless he watched me punch in the code. And he wouldn't have been able to watch me punch in the code unless he had been following me on my way home. That freak!

Well, on the other hand, it wasn't confirmed that he was following me just yet. I mean, he could be going to a cult convention or something.

The lane split into two so that faster cars could pass on the left. Since I wasn't too used to driving the van yet, I moved into the right lane, going a couple miles under the speed limit. I wasn't too sure where the grocery store was, but I had a vague idea. I kind of recall seeing one the other day when we driving up to the house for the first time.

I saw one car pass by, the driver texting someone. And then the second one.

Wait a minute… I glanced back into the mirror, seeing Paul directly behind me. Sure enough, he was wearing that stupid smirk of his, obviously aware that I was the one driving the van. He had to have been following me! There's no other explanation!

Paul pulled over in the left lane and sped up the littlest bit until he was right next to me window. He smirked my way and made a circular motion with his right hand, telling me to roll down the window. Now the way I see it, there are two ways that this can go down: 1). I can roll down the window and completely submit myself to Paul right here, right now. Of course I can't go through with that because then that would out me in La Push and then forever make me appear subservient to Paul, which I'm willing to bet would go straight to his head. Or, 2). I could just speed up and ignore him, going on with my plan to avoid him with every fiber of my being. Avoiding the problem is kind of my signature move.

Or, there was a third option.

I rolled the window down, watching Paul's smirk grow larger and his head nod, almost as if in approval. Then I extended my left arm out of the window and gave him the finger, bursting out in hysterics.

Immediately, Paul's smile fell and he narrowed his eyes at me.

My laughter took over my body and concentration, so when I began to deviate from my lane, I jumped and quickly straightened the van out, too embarrassed to look at Paul. Without a doubt, he would have a smart retort to my poor driving skills. I rolled the window back up and floored the gas pedal, speeding up away from the new stalker of mine. The sounds of the engine growled with more ferocity. Paul was keeping up. Of course it was foolish of me to think that I could escape a motorcycle in a minivan.

Nevertheless, determined to show that creep that I wouldn't allow him to get to me, I continued on my way, pulling into the grocery store parking lot and parking near the back. That way, in case an argument broke out or Paul tried to get grabby, then the other patrons wouldn't be able to see. I shut the van off, internally screaming when I saw Paul pull up into the space adjacent to the passenger side of the van. He switched his motorcycle off, leaning over the handles, his gaze fixed on me, that irritating smirk making a hated comeback yet again.

Ugh, just get this over with, I thought. I hopped out of the van, tunneling my vision on the store entrance at the other end of the semi-busy parking lot. There weren't a lot of cars so as the lot would be completely full, but I could tell that the store would be kind of busy with the amount available.

"Hey Baby," Paul cooed from behind me.

I froze in my steps, turning around to see that smug jerk sit atop his motorcycle. He wiggled his eyebrow in a way that I suppose was meant to be sexy.

"What did you call me?" I asked.

"Well," Paul smirked, folding his arms over his broad chest, "I called you 'Baby.' It's a term of endearment that most couples use. Therefore, Darren, you are my baby."

Eww! "Look here Lahote," I said, finding my moxie that was previously hidden somewhere behind my bladder, "I don't like you." I made sure to scrunch my face up with disgust when I said that.

Paul's smirk disappeared and his breathing grew hard.

"And I'm certainly not your baby, which by the way makes you sound like a pedophile, even more so since you're like thirty-eight. And lastly, I'm not gay and if I was, I would never enter a relationship with you. So please, leave me alone." And with that, I spun around, my head held high, and stormed into the grocery store. Sure I may have added a bit more sting in there than needed, but I really needed Paul to stop bothering me. I've only officially known him for one day, and he's already becoming a pain.

Needing to ignore Paul lest I get an aneurism, I focused on locating the produce aisle once inside the store. It wasn't too hard, since it was located right in the front. I walked over to where the cucumbers were, but it dawned on me that I had no idea how to tell if they were ripe or not. Knowing my mom, she'd send me back to the store if I came back with unripe cucumbers, thus forcing me to have to deal with Paul yet again. After a little glance around, I couldn't find an employee nearby who could help me out.

There was one man a couple feet away looking at the strawberries. I suppose that he might know a thing or two about produce if he was in the aisle.

"Excuse me?" I said, my shyness already making my ears warm.

"Yeah?" the man asked, turning to face me. Needless to say, he was pretty hot. That was all that needed to be said. That man was hot. He had his blonde hair in a buzzcut with some stubble sprinkled around his strong and square jaw. His eye blue eyes looked at me warmly, the hot ice making me forget all about the weirdo outside. He was around my height and a little chunkier, which was nice since I liked my men with meat on their bones. When he caught my eye, he flashed a smile my way, but not a fake smile like Paul's, but a genuine one that actually reached his eyes.

"I wondering if you could help me out," I asked, "are you familiar with cucumbers at all?" I held one out to him, hoping to see if he could tell me if it was ripe or not. It was a rather big one, thick like a soda can and almost a foot long.

"Well, I'd say that'd be a euphemism for penis if you weren't holding a squash," the man laughed.

The color drained from my face. Wow, I feel stupid. "Uhh," I groaned, not really sure what to say in a moment like this. "Could you help me pick out a good cucumber?"

The man laughed once again, tears in his eyes. "Well, if you'd just asked for my number, I would've given it to you," he giggled, "you're pretty cute."

"No, I was just asking - wait, really?" I asked. "You think I'm cute?" Sure, I had previously made it my mission to stay in the closet while in La Push, but here was another gay man, who was not a psycho, who had an interest in me.

He looked me up and down, biting his lip. "Oh absolutely," he smiled. "I'm Caleb."

"Darren," I smiled back, feeling my stomach starting to do flips. I knew that I shouldn't have pursued this conversation or encouraged it, but it felt pretty good to have my ego stroked in a manner that wasn't nightmare-inducing.

"So, I could help you pick out some cucumbers and then we could go over to my place and I can show you how to use them," Caleb said, doing the same eyebrow wiggle-thingy that Paul did outside. Maybe it was a regional mating ritual?

I was about to turn Caleb down, really I was. Despite the nice attention I was receiving, I knew deep down that I could never date anyone I wanted to now. At least not until I move far away and am not financially dependent on my parents. However, I never got a chance to answer.

A heavy arm dropped itself on my shoulders with enough force to make my knees buckle under its power. It then pulled me into a hot body, the temperature definitely from rage as the frame shook with an anger that I'd never seen before in my life. As I looked up at Paul, who had me in his grip, he looked pretty dang terrifying as his cold eyes shot daggers at Caleb, who looked about ready to mess himself. Paul's breathing grew labored and hard, huffing through clenched teeth. His grip on me grew tighter as he tried to mold us into one entity.

"This one's mine!" he snarled at Caleb.

Caleb held his hands up in surrender, dropping his basket of groceries. "Sorry Lahote!" he stuttered, slowly backing up.

Paul only continued to make growling, pissed off noises at the petrified man. "Mine!" he barked again, wrapping his other arm around me to punctuate his point.

"Yeah, yours," Caleb said before turning around and running away.

Paul kept his hold on me and literally dragged me out of the grocery store, the other customers watching with wide eyes. However, none of them tried to stop Paul or even say anything.

"Where are you taking me?" I frantically asked Paul as he dragged me through the parking lot. This is it, I thought, Paul is going to kidnap me and then kill me in some cult ritual. Wow, and I didn't even make it forty-eight hours in La Push. I hate my life.

"I'll just have to show you," Paul growled, not looking down at me.

"Show me what?" I cried. Oh God, he was going to show me his knife collection or some rabid animal that he would feed me to. I just know it.

"I just have to step up my game," he grunted. "Get ready Darren, before like it or not, in two days' time right after the bonfire, you will submit to me."

Submit? "What are you talking about?" I demanded, gradually gaining my footing so that I could yank myself out of my captor's hold. Paul let go of me, except he kept a strong hold on my left wrist, refusing to give me up entirely.

Paul's smirk formed again and he leaned down closer to my face. "You will be all mine," he growled.

"I highly doubt that," I snapped, trying (and failing) to yank my wrist from his grip.

"Oh, Baby, that's where you're wrong," he laughed. "You see, no one is able to resist the Lahote Charm, and my Baby, you are going to get it full on. So be prepared to be all mine."

Oh game on!


	5. Seeing Stars

"Seeing Stars" – BØRNS

"_You've got me seeing stars / Brighter than ever / Shining just like diamonds do / I know that in time it could be all ours / Brighter than ever / Your love is such a dream come true / I know, I know, I know I need you_"

* * *

Paul was delusional if he actually believed that I would submit to him in two days' time. In two days it would be Friday, the day that I had tentatively agreed to attend the double date when I had only discussed it with Claire and Lola. Of course the logical thing to do would be to back out of the excursion, however, a piece of my mind told me that would be the coward's way out. I had already taken the coward's path by breaking up with Vincent with a text, so I didn't want to repeat that same mistake with Paul. It was a pride issue. Anyway, there's only one way to handle a cocky pursuer like Paul, and that's to destroy their ego. All I have to do is employ my worldly and upper class knowledge that will show Paul that I'm out of his league, and then he'll leave me alone. Harsh, yes. Normally, I do not like to be mean to other people. But after the incident in the grocery store, I need to make sure that his inappropriate behavior is nipped in the bud.

Paul looked at me expectantly in the parking lot, his hold still latched onto my wrist. "Well?" he asked. "Have anything to say, Baby?"

Ugh, there was that nickname he gave me that sent a bolt of anger throughout me. I wasn't his Baby! It's time to engage in Operation Get Rid of Lahote. "No," I smirked, "now if you'll excuse me, I have to buy some cucumbers for my mom." I made a move to release myself from his grasp, but to no avail.

Paul growled, kind of like a dog. He tugged on my wrist, making me stumble into his hard body. "How about I escort you?" Paul sneered, quickly moving his hand from my wrist to in between my fingers, making it look like we were a happy couple holding hands out in public.

"I can do it myself," I snorted, trying, once again, to yank myself out of his hold. Yet again, it was no use as Paul was significantly stronger than me.

"Let me reiterate," Paul said, "I'm going to escort you, end of discussion." With that, he pulled on my hand, leading the way back into the grocery store.

No! If I go inside the store holding hands with Paul Lahote, then I'd be outed to all of La Push! I tried to pull my hand out of Paul's grasp, each time earning a growl from the stronger man, who began to rub his thumb up and down my fingers in what I suppose was meant to be a calming gesture. Paul's sunglasses hung from his shirt collar and I briefly had the idea to wear them and pretend that I was blind and using Paul as my eyes. However, I'm a horrible actor, so that'll probably fail. "Paul," I hissed, "let go." I tried to yank myself out of his talons again, and failed again.

We were getting closer and closer to the sliding doors, the customers in the front of the store already able to see us. Thinking quickly, I quickened my pace and moved my body a little closer to Paul's, pulling our hands behind us that way people would just think we have boundary issues and are not holding hands. I tried digging my nails into Paul's skin, but they didn't seem to bother him at all.

The doors slid open and Paul escorted me inside the store. The other customers didn't look our way, too busy concentrating on themselves than to see the bad boy and the new guy together in public.

"If you don't stop trying to get away from me, I'll my shove tongue down your throat right now for everyone to see," Paul whispered in my ear.

Immediately I stopped trying to pull away and desperately commanded my body to go limp. I told myself to behave and just play along for now, and then later I could make my escape when there are not any other people around. At least my parents were at home with Howie so they couldn't see this.

"Good boy," Paul cooed, pressing his rough lips onto my cheek for a brief second.

"If this is what you're talking about when you said 'Lahote Charm', I must say that I'm disappointed," I mused. Honestly, I had expected flowers, candies, and Paul behaving in a gentlemanly way. Not forced contact and possessive behavior. Who on Earth would be turned on by this?

Paul chuckled to himself as he led us back to the produce aisle. There was absolutely no sign of Caleb. Poor guy. "You just wait and see what I have in store for us later," Paul laughed.

That sent chills down my spine. I was quiet the rest of the time as Paul searched the aisle for cucumbers. When we got to them, he looked some over and grabbed three, putting them in the produce plastic bags.

"Look for the hard ones with no blemishes," he muttered, not looking down at me.

I pursed my lips, letting him guide me over to the cashier. The woman rang us up without saying a word as to why we were holding hands. When she had first saw us, her eyes darted between Paul and me and she shrugged to herself, and then let it drop after that. Paul wound up paying for my mom's cucumbers, and then escorted me out of the store and through the parking lot to where we had parked.

"There," he said, finally letting go of my hand which was red and sweaty, "was it that bad?"

"I've had better," I muttered under my breath.

"With who?" Paul growled, his fists clenching and his jaw set.

"None of your business," I smirked, grabbing the van's keys out of my pocket. Paul folded his arms and watched as I hopped in the van and turned the keys in the ignition.

But nothing happened. There was no sputter or anything. The keys turned, but there was no noise and the van didn't turn on.

"What did you do?" I cried, whipping my head to face Paul.

Paul failed at looking innocent. He tried to stop smirking, but it was no use. I knew that he had to be behind this somehow. Worse of all, I was driving the only vehicle my family had, so I couldn't call anyone to come pick me up. Why does my life suck so much?

"Would you like a ride home?" Paul asked, patting the seat of his motorcycle. Since I don't know much about cars or anything, there wasn't much I could say about Paul's motorcycle. It was small and it looked old. It kind of had those long-horn looking handle bars, but not as long as I've seen others have. It was blue, but had some rust on it from wear and tear.

"There's no way I'm getting on that thing," I scoffed. First off, I'll die, and secondly, I'd have to hold onto Paul in order to stay on. There's just no way either of those are happening today. I hopped out of the minivan and began to walk through the parking lot over to the sidewalk.

I heard Paul start his motorcycle behind me and make his way over to me. He rode alongside where I walked. "Where are you going?" he asked, actually sounding a little concerned. Whatever.

"Home," I curtly said. I continued on my way, finally on the sidewalk. The store was roughly a mile and a half away from my house, so it would be a while before I got there, and then I had no idea what to tell my mom regarding her van. Ugh.

"Darren," Paul barked, riding on the road alongside me. Unfortunately I was walking with traffic, so he had no trouble staying with me. "There are things in this area that aren't exactly…safe. So all joking aside, jump on and let me take you home."

"No thanks," I smirked. I knew that I was making Paul mad, but hey, he kind of deserved it for how he's been treating me today, like I was his property.

Paul unleashed a low growl. He looked like he was about to explode on me, his face red with rage and his teeth clenched. However, he closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths, the color in his face returning. He looked at me with pleading eyes, which I could tell were sincere. I've never seen this part of Paul before, although I have personally known his for less than twenty-four hours. This time in his deep brown eyes, I saw what looked like need and genuine concern for my well-being. There was absolutely zero percent of cockiness in his expression. "Darren," he pleaded, "please."

Despite my current hatred for him, Paul's worry actually pulled at my heartstrings and I felt myself cave in. Darn it. "Fine," I huffed, "but only to my house, nowhere else!"

"Deal," Paul agreed, stopping the motorcycle and putting his hazard lights on so the cars behind us would go around. He took the bag of cucumbers and set them in his lap – I can't wait to hear what joke he has about that. "So just swing your left leg over the bike and hold onto me as tight as you can."

I hopped on the bike, my heart speeding up as fast as it could. My hands began to shake and images of me falling off the bike and getting skinned on the asphalt flickered in my overactive imagination. My breathing grew labored and I could feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead.

"Hold onto me," Paul said, not noticing the mini-freak out I was having.

But what if someone saw us on the same bike, saw me with my arms wrapped around his body? Oh God, I couldn't do this. My body was trembling with a combination of fear and the powerful engine that shook the frame of the dainty bike.

"Darren?" Paul asked.

"Paul," I whimpered in a shaky voice, "I gotta be honest here: I'm pretty terrified of riding this thing."

Paul shut off the motorcycle and turned to face me. "Really?" he asked. I hoped that the road wasn't busy so that we wouldn't get honked at just sitting in the middle of the street all because I was too afraid to ride a motorcycle. I wanted to look behind me, but was far too embarrassed to.

I nodded, answering Paul's question. "I've never been on one before."

Paul's eyebrows rose and then he thought for a second. "Okay, well here's what you do," he said. He took both of my arms and positioned them around his midsection. "You hold onto me tightly and just lean when I lean."

I nodded, too scared to say anything. If I fall off this toy, then I'll either be deformed or killed.

Paul started the motorcycle up again, patting both of my hands with one of his. "Don't worry," he said, "I won't let anything bad happen to you, ever."

Paul slowly began to move the motorcycle forward. I shut my eyes and shoved my face into the back of his leather jacket. The aroma of pine and musk permeated my senses as I hid there. Every time I felt Paul shift his weight to one side of the bike, I made sure to move with him, our bodies moving in synchronicity. His powerful chest muscles squirmed under the thin fabric of his shirt, allowing my fingers to feel every contour of them. He sure was built, no wonder why he was so much stronger than me in the store when he held my hand. Every couple of seconds, he patted my hands with one of his in a gesture to tell me that everything was alright.

It was all too confusing. Here I was, holding onto Paul Lahote: a known bad boy in La Push whom I had previously sworn to avoid like the plague. I've only personally known him for one day, and already he's caused me much annoyance to which I've wanted to strangle him, and yet, at the end of the day, he's comforting me and giving me a ride home. Why would he act all stalkerish, then cocky, and now all caring? It made no sense to me at all, and I planned on asking him as soon as he cuts the motorcycle engine.

I felt the motorcycle come to a stop and then the screeching of metal against metal. I opened my eyes and lifted my head to see that Paul had led us to the entry gate of the Community and had already punched in the code. How did he know the code? He entered the Community, sticking to the correct route to my house up until he pulled up into the driveway. How did he know which house was mine?

Paul turned the motorcycle off and turned to face me. "Here," he announced. He then saw my puzzled expression. "What?"

"How do you know where I live?" I asked. I hopped of the motorcycle, my legs feeling wobbly and weak.

Paul put the kickstand down and got off as well. "Don't worry about that," he shrugged. He reached into his pocket and fished out a piece of paper that he then dropped into the bag of cucumbers. "My number, call me in the morning so I can give you a lift to school."

"Why?" I cocked my eyebrow and took the bag of cucumbers from Paul. "You're really confusing, Lahote. I hope you know that."

"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely looking puzzled.

"We just meet, okay," I explained, "and already you're acting all domineering and controlling, pestering me to no end. And then all of a sudden, during my time of need, you give me a ride home. So you bother me and then help me out. I don't understand your motive, that's all."

Paul looked down at his shoes and then back up at me, pursing his lips. "Isn't it obvious, Darren?" he asked. "I mean really, why would anyone do that to another person?"

I thought for a second and took a quick look around my block. No one else was outside their house, probably still at work. I shrugged, "I dunno. They're probably just bored and like picking on the new kid."

Paul shook his head. "I could tell you right now, but I don't want to scare you away," he said, turning back to his motorcycle. He threw one leg over it and turned it on. "But, I could tell you the easy part, only if you'd promise not to overreact, which I'm willing to bet is a common trait of yours."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine tell me," I huffed, "why is it that you won't leave me alone?"

"Because I love you."

I dropped the bag of cucumbers and stared at Paul incredulously. "What?" I gasped.

"You heard me," Paul smirked, "call me tomorrow morning, Baby." He then backed out of the driveway and sped off down the block until he disappeared from my vision.

So how was Paul admitting his love for me the easy part? What is going on with my life? I picked up the bag of cucumbers off the driveway and stumbled inside, my mind in a cloud of perplexing enigma due to what just happened outside.

"Darren?" my mom called from the kitchen. "What took you so long?"

Oh no! How was I going to explain the minivan to her? Quickly, I snatched the slip of paper that Paul had thrown into the grocery bag and shoved it into my pocket. "Mom," I called, my knees buckling with anxiety from the van and Paul. "The van wouldn't start up, so a stranger offered me ride home."

"What?!" my mom yelled. I could hear her slam the dish she was washing into the sink and storm out into the hallway. That night, I had to come up with a fake story as to how the van wouldn't work and how I managed to get home. It started with the van not starting up after a totally normal grocery store excursion with absolutely no weirdness involved at all. Then as I was struggling to start up the van, a totally nice family who was God-fearing as they had a rosary hanging from their rearview mirror, offered me a ride home. I accepted and they drove me back home, and I thanked them with the promise of helping their teenage daughter with her English homework. My mom had totally believed the story, even commending me on my offering repayment in the form of tutoring. Jonathan, on the other hand, was extremely irritated, and he grumbled to himself the entire time he fished out his cell phone from its hiding place to call people he knew to give him a lift to the grocery store to try and fix it. Eventually he found someone and left, only to return not even fifteen minutes later with an annoyed look on his face.

"Apparently, Mr. Genius here managed to get the battery disconnected somehow," Jonathan spat as soon as he entered the house. "How the fuck did you manage to do that one?"

I shrugged, although I'm willing to bet that Paul had a hand in this. "I hit a pothole on my way there?"

Jonathan shook his head, pinching the skin above his nose. "No, someone would have had to have opened up the hood and physically pulled the connector off the battery," he huffed. "So, who did it Darren?"

My heart began to speed up as I struggled to think up an excuse. There was no way that I could tell him that Paul had disconnected the battery so that he could give me a ride home.

"Oh Johnny," Howie laughed as he walked into the room, clamping a hand on his shoulder, "leave the boy alone. Obviously it was hazing by some of the teens. You remember the shit you'd do when you were that age, right?"

Jonathan grunted and shook his dad's hand off him, storming away. "No more driving, Darren!" he called from wherever he went.

I glanced over at Howie, who had his lips pursed and slowly shook his head before returning to his room.

The rest of the night, I felt like I was walking on eggshells. During dinner, my mom, blissfully unaware of the tension, told us all about how well her job interview had went and how she thought she'd definitely get a callback the next day. Every now and then, I'd notice Jonathan darting a pissed expression my way. He knew something, no doubt about it. Perhaps when he had went to the grocery store to get the van, someone had told him that they had seen me and Paul holding hands while getting cucumbers. Howie ate his cucumber salad, holding his tongue. He knew something too, I could tell by the annoyed looks he'd give his own son.

When I was finished eating, I got up and placed my plate into the sink.

"It's getting late, why don't you go to your room?" Jonathan said from the table.

"Yes Sir," I mumbled, too exhausted and weirded out to argue. Something was up, I just know it. Either Jonathan knows and is just waiting for the right time to kick me out, or he has his suspicions and is waiting to get proof. Either way, I have to be extra careful when it comes to Paul now. I went upstairs to my room and plopped down my mattress, pulling out my phone and the paper with Paul's number on it.

"_Did u disconnect the car battery?_" I texted him.

It didn't take even ten seconds before my phone buzzed with a response from Paul. "_Darren?_"

No, who did he think it was? I rolled my eyes, fighting the urge to give a sarcastic reply. "_Ya._"

"_How r u?_" he asked in a sad attempt to change the subject.

"_Just peachy, did u disconnect the car battery?_"

The phone began to buzz over and over. I looked at the screen which indicated that I had an incoming call from Paul. I huffed and slammed my head back onto my pillow in frustration.

"Yes?" I answered, making sure to speak in a quiet enough voice so that Paul could hear me, yet my parents could not.

"_You sound frustrated, is everything alright?_" Paul asked from the other line. Really? He's shocked that I may be a little peeved at the events of today?

"Paul, did you disconnect the car battery today?" I asked in my calmest voice that I owned. It was rather hard seeing as how I was incredibly pissed at him for getting me in trouble with Jonathan who now had his eye on me.

Paul sighed on the other line. "_Well how the hell else was I supposed to give you a lift home?_" he demanded, almost as if it were my fault that he did what he did.

"You could have just let me drive," I scoffed, "now I'm in trouble with my stepdad."

"_Okay, well I didn't mean to get you in trouble, but you even have to admit that you enjoyed your time on the bike, right?_"

"Are you insane?" I asked, wanting to pull my hair out. Does this guy seriously not see anything wrong with what he did? "And how did you know where I lived?"

The other end was silent for a while.

"Paul?"

"_I'm here_," he answered. "_And, no, I'm not insane. And I can't answer your other question right now, but just keep in mind that I will never hurt you, okay?_"

"Whatever."

"_I'm serious_," Paul said. "_And on that matter, I need you to do a huge favor for me, okay?_"

Like I would ever do a favor for that guy! "What favor?" I asked, curious to see what he had to nerve to ask of me.

"_Stay out of the forest_."

Huh, I wasn't expecting that. Honestly, I expected Paul to ask me to perform some kind of sexual act on him. "Why?"

"_Because I said, and there are some things that you should just trust me on_," he ordered.

"Whatever, okay," I huffed, although I had no plans to enter the forest to begin with. I wonder what he's hiding in there. Perhaps it's where his cult meets up for its meetings?

"_Thanks_," Paul sighed with relief, "_now get some sleep, Baby. I love you._" And with that he hung up, leaving me to ponder over exactly what the hell is going on with my life.


	6. Hidden Place

"Hidden Place" - Björk

"_Through the warmest / Cord of care / Your love was sent to me / I'm not sure / What to do with it / Or where to put it_"

* * *

**Wednesday**

_Beep! Beep! _My alarm on my phone rang out, telling me to get up to begin Day Two of dealing with Paul and his crazy antics. I groaned and shoved my face into my pillow, resisting the urge to scream out loud in frustration. There was the possibility of me faking a sickness, but then that would mean having to spend the day in the house with Jonathan and his suspicions that could lead me to getting kicked out. Then where would I go? "Why me?" I asked myself.

Slumping out of bed, I trudged downstairs to get an energy drink from the fridge in order to prepare me for the day. There was no doubt in my head that Paul would want to give me a ride to school today, and I was just not feeling it. I couldn't have him picking me up at my house and I couldn't have the students at the high school seeing me showing up on the back of his motorcycle, my arms wrapped around his muscly torso. I shivered at the thought of those happening. Swinging open the fridge door, I frowned to find that there were only Jonathan's healthy herbal drinks like wheatgrass and passion fruit.

"What the hell?" I hissed to myself. Why couldn't anything be easy?

"Seems like you need to get away," a voice said from behind me.

I jumped and slammed the door, spinning around to confront the person who was spying on me. To my relief, Howie was standing at the kitchen island, getting himself a cup of coffee. He was already dressed up for the day, despite not having anything to do. He then reached into his pants pocket, setting the contents on the island's granite top.

Four one's and four quarters.

I cocked my eyebrow at him.

"Take the 15 to Forks, and then the 14 to Port Angeles," he said, checking over his shoulder. "There's a nice bookstore there. Why don't you read up on some Quileute folklore?"

My gaze switched between Howie and the money on the counter. "Uhh," I mumbled, unsure how to go about this situation. I knew that Howie needed help, but I didn't think that applied to mental help as well. "Are you sure?"

"It may help you out with that Lahote kid," Howie said, grabbing his mug and shuffling back towards his room.

"What do you mean?" I nervously chuckled, trying to act innocent although I'm pretty sure I miserably failed to do so. Nonetheless, I scooped up the money and held it tightly in my fist.

"Bus leaves near the high school in about an hour," Howie said, shutting his door.

So, obviously Howie knew about Paul, did that mean that Jonathan did too? I strained my ears, but could hear no indication that Jonathan was awake, so I guess that I'll have to find out later. I quickly ran back upstairs and took a shower. I changed into a black sweater and some blue jeans, forgetting to grab a jacket or umbrella. The notion that there would be a way to get some information on Paul excited me. I may finally be able to uncover the secrets of his cult and thus rid myself of his clingy attitude. I did remember to reach into the pickle jar that I housed my car fund in, grabbing only two twenties to help me pay for the book and maybe some lunch. My mind was in a frantic race, eager to dig up some dirt. Paul had mentioned that he loved me yesterday, however, he also hinted at something more. Something bigger, according to him. Now, what could be bigger than that? Hopefully that will be in the Quileute folklore book that I find.

I ran the entire way to the bus stop. I've never considered myself athletic, so I was incredibly out of breath after the three-quarter mile run, gasping for air as I plopped myself down on the bus stop bench. School still didn't start for at least an hour, so there was no chance of any of the students (mainly Claire and Lola) being able to see me getting on the bus, and then ratting me out to Paul. That thought made me scrunch up my face. Why did I care if Paul found out that I skipped school and rode the bus by myself to Port Angeles? He didn't own me, and I sure didn't need to answer to him.

The bus pulled up, stopped with a low screech, the warm exhaust blowing over me. I hopped on, asking the driver for a day pass.

"Four dollars," he muttered, not even looking at me.

I inserted my money and got my pass, taking a seat near the back of the bus. There were only two other people on the bus, so my odds of word getting back to Paul were in my favor. Finally, things were starting to look up.

My phone buzzed.

Of course things could never be that simple. I pulled it out and looked at the screen, already rolling my eyes. Oh, it was a text from Paul, not Vincent. I jerked back in surprise and opened it.

"_Remember that Im driving u. Want breakfast?_" he texted.

Aww, he was going to buy me breakfast, I gushed. Whoa there! Immediately, I mentally chastised myself for thinking that an action of Paul's was cute. There was nothing cute about it. He'd most likely use it as ammo against me or something.

"_Im not going. Sick_," I responded. Despite my previous determination to show Paul that he wasn't in charge of me, I still found myself lying in order to avoid him. I'm such a loser, I thought, slamming my head back onto the head rest. I pulled my iPod out from my pocket, turning on some techno song that would help to boost my mood. This was supposed to be a good day today; I was supposed to be able to avoid Paul while getting to the bottom of his bizarre behavior and the cult of La Push.

"_r u alrite?_" he asked.

"_Ya, just need rest_," I said. Well, I guess in a way I do need rest from him. Technically, I'm not lying.

"_Im coming ovr to take care of u_."

Oh my God, no! There was no way I wanted Paul anywhere near my house when I'm there. And now that Jonathan and Howie are the only people there, there's even more of a reason why I didn't want him going over there. And even worse: he'll find out that I was lying, which I'm not sure why I'm worried about that.

"_My moms here and doesnt like ppl ovr_," I quickly texted.

There was no response for a awhile, making me sweat in my seat. This can't be happening. I found myself staring at the phone, refusing to blink, desperate for that response from Paul.

"_K, ill call u l8r tonite to check on u_," he finally texted.

YES! I wanted to jump up and down in triumph. "_K_," I replied, and then shut off my phone in order to keep him off my mind so that I could actually enjoy this trip of mine. The rest of the first bus trip was over in about twenty more minutes. I hopped off at the stop in Forks and waited at the stop until I saw the Number 14 pull up. I jumped on, flashing my day pass at the driver, who just grunted and motioned for me to take my seat. This bus was a little more crowded, so I snagged a seat in the middle, but at least I got the window. As soon as the bus lurched forward for Port Angeles, water droplets appeared on the window. Great, it's starting to rain, and I'm clad in only a sweater with no umbrella. I groaned, but still needed to stay focused on my mission.

I asked the other riders on the bus where I could find the bookstore with the Quileute legends, and one had told me that it would be about a thirty minute walk to the other side of town from where the bus would drop us off, which didn't seem too bad. The bus took two and a half hours with more than thirty stops in between in order to make it to Port Angeles. I'm not a patient person, so the ride was torture!

Eventually the bus stopped in Downtown Port Angeles, and I practically ran off, thankful to finally be off that thing and on my feet. I stretched my arms above my head until my back popped and then dashed over to the sidewalk in order to find the bookstore. It was still raining outside, making me get drenched. My sweater was soon soaked with rainwater and my canvas shoes squished with every step I took. Downtown wasn't very uplifted like I had imagined it to be. It was only a couple square miles and there was no building with more than five stories. It was nothing like San Antonio! However, the salty sweet aroma of the ocean wafted over the area, which was a pleasant surprise. I love the beach and the only downside to San Antonio was that it wasn't near the ocean.

I began to shiver with cold as I wandered throughout the streets, scanning every sign and building for any indication of where the bookstore is. I had been informed that it was near the edge of town, but I had no clue if I was heading towards the right edge. If I went to the exact opposite side of town, I would most likely cry and give up seeing as how I'm drenched and super cold.

After several more minutes of complaining and getting soaked, I saw off in the distance a tiny little house with a sign that read _Bookstore_ in the window. Yes! I made it! I quickened my pace and dashed inside the building, eager to get out of the freezing rain. My fingers were now numb and I couldn't feel my face.

The storeowner looked at me from behind the counter, cocking his eyebrow. "Forgot an umbrella?" he asked, although it sounded more like he was judging me.

I nodded. "I-I d-don't wanna get your store wet," I stuttered from being super cold. "Could you grab a book for me?"

"Good idea," the man said, looking me up and down. "Which one?"

"One on Quileute folklore, please," I stammered, wrapping my arms around myself in a feeble attempt to stay warm.

"You don't look Quileute," he said, moving from the counter over to one of the shelves. "This for a project?"

"Getting it for a friend," I said. Dang, I'm a full-blown Pinocchio today.

"Nice of you," he muttered, grabbing a brown, leather bound book. He went back over to the counter and pushed some buttons on the register. "That'll be $32.50."

Dang, this book better be worth it. I frowned and handed the man my soaked twenties. His eyes switched between me and the wet paper, once again judging me, and huffed. He went back to the register, put the wet money to the side and brought me my change. He then put the book in a plastic bag.

"Try to keep it dry," he said. "The binding will fall apart if it gets wet."

"Thanks," I muttered, grabbing the bag. I was happy to leave the store, yet annoyed that I'd have to go back out in the pouring rain.

"There's a coffee shop across the street," the man said. "You could wait there for a ride or something."

Oh, that was nice of him to let me know. "Thanks," I said, fast-walking out of the store and across the street. The coffee shop was one of those locally owned ones where a bunch of hipsters hung out at. As soon as I walked in, the patrons stopped what they were doing to look me over. Great, I guess I don't fit in anywhere. I walked over to the counter, ordering a hot coffee with tons of sugar so that it could warm me up.

I gave the barista the rest of my money for the meager cup, grumbling the whole time, and then took a seat at a small table near the window.

I pulled the book out of the plastic bag. There was no writing on the cover, just an imprint of a wolf in gold. Quickly flipping through the pages, I discovered that it had three hundred pages. I am a bit of a slow reader as I read word for word, so at least this should keep me busy for most of the day.

I cracked open the book, taking a sip of the bitter coffee that was so not worth my money, and began to read. The first two chapters talked about Quileute history and the importance of keeping these legends alive for future generations of the tribe. Eh, yeah I'm sure that stuff's important, but it told me nothing about Paul or his weird behavior.

Things began to get good when I began to read about the legends that the tribe is descendants of wolves, having the ability to shift into one in a time of crisis. Those couple of chapters had some interesting stories that would definitely make some good movies. I wonder if Paul knows about these tales?

I was about to read the chapter entitled _Imprinting_ when the barista came to my table.

"Sir," she said in a monotone voice, "we're closing shop for the day."

Huh? I looked back out the window, startled to find that it was already dark outside. It was still raining, a little harder too. "Oh, sorry," I muttered, closing the book and putting it back in the plastic bag. How could I have lost track of so much time? Sure the book was good, but I didn't realize that it took me almost a whole day to read fourteen chapters. Oh God, and there's my mom and Jonathan, probably wondering where I'm at right now. I'm in so much trouble when I get home – hopefully Howie covered for me seeing as how coming out here was his idea. I sprinted all the way to the bus stop, even dashing across intersections, ignoring the honks from drivers I cut off. The heavy rain blinded me and I could hear the rolling of thunder as I ran, desperate to make it home as soon as I could.

Eventually I reached the bench at the bus stop, seeing two teens there making out under an umbrella.

"When's the 14 back to Forks coming?" I asked, struggling to catch my breath. My face was hot, and my clothes were waterlogged, even more than before the coffee shop.

The couple stopped sucking face long enough to shoot me dirty looks. "Dude, last one left an hour ago," the guy spat, returning to his girlfriend.

Oh no!

I missed the last bus, and I'm stranded out in Port Angeles in a thunderstorm. What else could possibly go wrong? Desperate to get out of the rain while I looked for a solution, I ran back over to the sidewalk to stay inside a store. Unfortunately, all of them had turned over their _Closed _signs, locking me out. Why does nothing work out for me? None of them even had an awning that I could stand under, getting no relief from the rain. I began to shake and my jaw violently jumped up and down from the freezing water I was surrounded by. I kept wandering about the town again, finally stumbling upon a public park that had two evergreen trees planted near the entrance. Both were large enough to sit under, and should supply enough shelter to keep a majority of the rainwater off me.

I scurried across the street over to the park and huddled under the largest tree, only safe from about fifty percent of the rain. It still showered on top of me, but at least this way I was off the sidewalk from sight where people would probably mistake me for a crazy homeless guy with all the running I've been doing.

I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and turned it on, waiting for it to load up. I knew I couldn't call Jonathan or my mom, because then Jonathan's suspicions would only be rooted deeper, thus getting me closer to getting kicked out. I didn't have Howie's number and there was no way I'd feel safe with him driving at night during a rainstorm.

That only left one person. Ugh. I dialed the number and waited not even three seconds for him to answer.

"_Darren?!_" Paul franctically answered. "_Why didn't you answer any of my calls or texts? I've been worried all day! And why aren't you at home?_"

"How did you know I wasn't home?" I shivered, my curiosity taking command.

"_Tell me where you are_," Paul ordered. I could hear the frustration in his voice.

"I missed the last bus home," I said, shaking uncontrollably from the cold. "I'm at the park in Downtown Port Angeles. Do you think you can give me a ride home?" It really sucked having to ask Paul for a favor, but he was my only hope of not dying from hypothermia now. Since it was still a kind of small town, most of the Port Angeles streets were empty of people and cars, the town shutting its lights off. I didn't have enough money to get a taxi and I was too scared to hitchhike.

"_Port Angeles?! What the fuck are you doing all the way over there?_" Paul demanded. "_You were supposed to be home sick._" He sounded really annoyed on the other line, maybe not seeing me worth driving over to Port Angeles at this time of night. Come to think of it, I didn't even know what time it was.

"Well, if you don't want to, I guess I could hitchhike," I said, mainly to myself in order to come up with a game plan.

"_NO!_" Paul roared, sending chills down my spine. His normally deep voice took on a guttural quality as if he were more animalistic at that moment.

I had to move the phone away from my ear for a brief moment lest he shouted like that again and hurt my eardrum. "Okay," I muttered sheepishly, "no hitchhiking."

Paul's breathing was hard on the other line. "_No hitchhiking_," he growled. "_Stay put and I'll come save you. Understand?_"

"Yes," I trembled, shuddering even more.

Paul hung up and I was left alone, shaking with cold and fear under the tree in the pouring rain. I glanced at the phone screen, seeing that it was ten past nine o'clock. Wow, I really lose track of time while reading the Quileute legends. I was just concerned about finding out what Paul was talking about when he had said he wasn't able to tell me a bit of information that was much bigger than him loving me.

Then I noticed the alerts icons on my phone, telling me that I had thirty-five missed calls from Paul and ten texts from him (and twelve from Vincent). Ignoring the ones from my crazy ex-boyfriend, I read the ones from Paul, curious to see what he had sent me.

_How r u feeling?_

_ Darren? R u there?_

_ Answer me, please._

_ Ur not home, where r u?_

_ Darren? R u ok?_

_ Can u just tell me ur safe?_

_ 2moro im not letting u out of my site_

_ Hello?_

_ Darren, please_

_ That's it, im having the pack looking 4 u now_

The pack? Is that what Paul called his cult? Well, he is Quileute and he's supposedly a descendant of a wolf, so maybe pack is just what he calls his gang of friends. Either way, his texts made me feel anxious, giving me a sort of sinking feeling that told me to be wary.

There were three voicemails from Paul. I felt that if I listened to them, then I would be able to tell if I should be even more wary of him or not. Already, stories from Jonathan and his weird behavior told me that Paul was one I should have extremely limited contact with, but if he turned out to be obsessive like Vincent, then that'd prove that he was one I should cut off all contact with. Even if I needed his help.

I dialed my voicemail and listened to them.

"_Message One, sent today at 12:23 PM_," the automated voice said.

"_Hey Baby_," I heard Paul say, "_just checkin' up on you to see how you're doing. I asked Emily and she said that a couple students were catching a cold, so make sure to drink plenty of liquids and get your rest. I'll call you later._"

"_Next message, sent today at 2:41 PM._"

"_Darren, I went by your house and I know that you're not there. You haven't been answering any of my texts or calls either. Where are you? You said that you were sick and that you'd be home. If I don't hear from you in fifteen minutes, then I'm having Sam send out the pack to look for you. Call me back._"

"_Next message, sent today at 6:05 PM._"

"_Darren?! Why are you ignoring me? I just need to know that you're safe. Just give me that and I'll stop calling, please. I love you. Just let me know you're okay, please so I can calm down._"

"_End of messages._"

Yeah… None of those seemed to help me out with my decision regarding whether or not I could trust Paul.

By now, my shaking from the frigid weather had taken total control of my body. My face was numb from the freezing rain that continuously assaulted me and my lower jaw would not stop pounding up and down, hurting my teeth a little bit. My arms were locked around my torso in a sad, desperate attempt to trap the smallest morsel of heat, but it ultimately failed. The rain left me completely drenched from head to toe, my hair matted against my forehead, my clothes heavy with the rainwater. Rain seemed to be the only thing I could focus on at the moment. Worries about Paul and his oddly obsessive attitude dissolved in the rainwater, pooling at my sloshing sneakers, far away from my brain. The thunder roared on, almost no one out on the streets to offer me refuge, leaving me to shake and soak in the freezing storm. I should have stayed home today. The book proved to be useless as I'm no closer to finding anything out about Paul now as I had been yesterday.

I rested my head back against the tree, the wet bark leaving dirt in my short hair. My vision grew grainy as my entire body convulsed with cold, until it ultimately faded black…

"Darren!"

I briefly stirred, too numb to do anything but internally pray that whoever saw me would save me from this wet nightmare.

Two hot arms yanked on my torso, their intense heat burning my icy skin, making me briefly wince. I was pulled into a warm wall of muscle that reeked of musk and sweat.

Paul.

"I've got you," he whispered in my ear, "I'm here. You're safe."

I let Paul pick me up, too tired to open my eyes. I felt my body go limp in his hold as he held me like a baby, my head resting on his beefy shoulder that was covered by his leather jacket.

"I've got you, Darren," he whispered as he began to carry me off somewhere, hopefully somewhere warm. "Don't worry, I have you now."


End file.
